


The Nadder

by apollonious



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gen, New Berk (How to Train Your Dragon), Post-Canon, post-HTTYD 3, saturday is dragon day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollonious/pseuds/apollonious
Summary: An arrival on New Berk threatens to upset the balance of the entire Haddock clan.
Relationships: Eret/Valka (How to Train Your Dragon), Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Zephyr Haddock, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III/Astrid Hofferson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	The Nadder

The dragon fell out of the sky almost at Hiccup’s feet.

It bounced a few feet in front of him and managed to fly a few wing flaps farther before it hit the ground and skidded to a stop, leaving a furrow behind it. It lay there, its side rising and falling in heaving breaths.

For a few moments, Hiccup just stood there, stunned, his mouth gaping open. He hadn’t seen a dragon in almost two years, not since his final flight with Toothless. And he hadn’t expected to see one ever again. Not ever.

He sprang out of the total stillness he’d been in for the past few seconds and rushed to the dragon, falling to his knees beside it. At his approach, it squawked in alarm.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Hiccup murmured, holding out his hands to show they were empty. “You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The dragon’s cries faded to whimpers as it registered Hiccup’s tone, if not the words themselves. It appeared to be a baby Nadder, though the pattern of its scales was one he didn’t recognize. Of course, it was hard to say whether he’d recognize any pattern besides Stormfly’s at first sight.

A quick survey of the little dragon showed him that one wing was bent at at an angle that could only be described as _wrong_ , definitely broken, and the remains of a bola were tangled around its legs. He hesitated over the wing a moment; he’d have to set it, but he didn’t have anything to splint it with. And if it screamed for any amount of time, people would come rushing out to the forest to see what was wrong. He’d have to take it back to his workshop. He couldn’t leave it out here, defenseless and unable to escape if an animal was attracted by its noise and flailing. 

The Nadder squawked again when he pulled out his knife, but as he cut away at the cords of the bola, it quieted. It was just shy of adolescence, still far too young to be trained, but at least it seemed to realize it wasn’t in danger from him.

“See? Not gonna hurt you,” he said, slipping the knife back into its sheath. Thanking all the gods he was alone, and for the falling dark, he scooped the dragon up in his arms, careful not to bump the wing. He didn’t know what the other Vikings on New Berk might do if they saw a dragon, but he was pretty sure the Nadder would panic if it saw another human.

Walking slowly, glad for how young the dragon was—if it had been much bigger, he might not be able to carry it—he made his way back to the village, narrating quietly as he went. “And we’re just walking through the forest,” he said. “And we’re approaching the village. It’s a good thing the house is close to the edge of town, huh?” It whimpered softly in his ear, as though in reply.

He let himself into the workshop without anyone seeing him. Fortunately, Zephyr wasn’t there—lately, she’d taken to using the space even when he wasn’t there. She ought to be in bed by now, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d caught her out past curfew.

He carefully set the Nadder down on the table and appraised it once more. Using a flint-steel, he lit a torch, and as if in reply, the dragon began sparking a magnesium fire in its throat. “No! No fire,” Hiccup said, more sharply than he intended. The Nadder squawked questioningly, pulling its head back, but at least it stopped sparking.

Starting a fire was the last thing they needed. 

Hiccup decided he’d need to make a muzzle first. Otherwise, the setting of the broken wing would wake up the whole village. And Astrid would kill him if he woke the baby. It wasn’t fancy, just a couple strips of leather tied securely around the Nadder’s head, but it should do. As he tied its jaw shut, the dragon whimpered at him questioningly. 

“Sorry,” he said. “But this is going to hurt, and we need to be quiet.” As gently as he could, he ran his fingers along the edge of the broken wing and found the break. It hadn’t punched through the skin, which was good, but as he took a side of the break in each hand, the baby gave a squawk of alarm. It turned into a muffled cry of pain as he took a deep breath and then, in one sharp movement, shifted the bone back into place. There was another, smaller break in one of the delicate finger-bones of the wing, which Hiccup set too. The baby shrieked, though it was muffled by the muzzle, and fainted dead away. 

Working fast, Hiccup took several small lengths of wood and splinted the wing with more leather cords. He had to immobilize it completely; given the ability to move it, the Nadder might put the breaks he’d already set back out of alignment, or even do new harm to itself.

Once the wing was stabilized and the baby was laid out on the table, Hiccup ducked back out into the night.

“Mom? I need you.” The words were out of his mouth as soon as Valka opened her front door. 

“Hiccup? What’s going on?” Valka asked. Behind her, Hiccup could see Eret, son of Eret sitting at her kitchen table. “Come in.” 

He did so, shutting the door behind him. “There’s a dragon on New Berk,” he said to his mother and Eret.

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of this development struck both of them.

Then Valka gasped. “What? Where?” She was halfway to the door when Hiccup took her by the arm. 

“In my workshop,” he said. “It has a broken wing.” As she started to say something, he cut her off. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for too many humans to be around it. I just came to see if you have any dragon-specific medicine hanging around.”

“Hiccup, it’s been ten years,” Valka said. “But I can look. What kind of dragon?”

“A Nadder,” Hiccup said.

Valka nodded. “Right,” she said before vanishing into her oversized pantry, which stored herbs and medicines for the village as well as her own stores of food.

This left Hiccup alone with Eret. Hiccup hadn’t been quite sure how to approach the older man lately, ever since it had become clear that there was something going on with him and Valka. Hiccup had begun to suspect the night Stoick was born, but clearly something had been between them longer than that, at least since the Snoggletog they’d spent together on the other side of the island. At the time, Hiccup hadn’t given it much thought.

Eret spared Hiccup from having to break the silence by asking, “How do you think it broke its wing?”

“It’s hard to say,” Hiccup admitted. “It might have been in the fall—it landed right in front of me. It had a bola tangled around its legs.”

Eret nodded. “That would certainly give it difficulties flying. How big did you say it was?”

“Still a juvenile,” Hiccup said. 

“It makes sense a bola would have weighed it down, then, even if it just got its legs,” Eret said. “Lucky it came here.”

Lucky indeed. It was something Hiccup hadn’t let himself think about too much. Why had the baby Nadder come here, to him? And where had it come from?

As he was opening his mouth to start picking Eret’s brain about this, Valka came back out into the kitchen, carrying a small pouch. “This should help with the pain, at least,” she said. “I’ll just come with you and—”

But Hiccup was shaking his head. “I think, for right now at least, I should be the only human it sees. It’s scared enough of me.”

He could see his mother wanting to argue, biting back objections as she looked at him. And he got it—she had missed the Snoggletog visit, and the trip to the Hidden World had just been him and Astrid and the kids. She hadn’t seen a dragon in over a decade. Of course she was eager to. And that eagerness was part of the problem. If the Nadder sensed heightened emotion—any heightened emotion—coming from her, it might respond unpredictably.

But she knew all that as well as he did, and so after a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. Soon. I promise.”

She nodded again and handed him the pouch. “Good luck. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Do you remember how to dose that?”

“Of course. Thank you. Goodnight, Mom.” He nodded to Eret. “Eret.”

“G’night, Chief.”

When he walked back into his workshop, the Nadder was on its feet, dragging the wing behind it as it hobbled around the workshop. It cried out when it saw him, but fortunately, its makeshift muzzle was still on. 

“Hey, little guy,” Hiccup said. “It’s a good thing I made that splint nice and tight, huh?”

Even through the muzzle, the shriek the Nadder gave him was ear-piercing.

“Okay, okay,” Hiccup said, wincing, and sat on the floor. “Okay.” He pulled out the pouch of herbs his mom had given him, and despite itself, the Nadder began edging closer to him, cooing curiously. He pulled out a few stems of the dried herbs and stuck them in his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste as they began to soak up his spit. He chewed a little, and when the herbs had turned into a glob of thick paste, he spat it into the palm of his hand.

“Blegh. Okay, come here.” With the other hand, he reached out and tugged off one strap of the makeshift muzzle. “Okay, don’t bite my hand off,” he said. He didn’t think it could—he was wearing his leathers, after all, and the Nadder’s tiny baby jaws didn’t look like they had that much bite strength—but he let out a nervous breath as he slipped his hand into the little dragon’s mouth and placed the herb-paste on the back of its tongue. It squawked in protest as he pulled his hand out and held its jaws together.

“I know, I know, believe me, I know it’s gross. Swallow,” he ordered. 

He could swear the Nadder rolled its eyes before it finally did so, in sass rather than fear.

“I could do without the attitude,” he said, knotting the leather back around its head. “Okay. We’re going to need some fish. That shouldn’t be too hard. I bet you’re hungry. And I’ll have to pin your wing to your body. I would have done it before, but I honestly thought you’d be out longer. And I should probably make you a nest or something to sleep in.” He stood, reaching for his box of leather scraps, and after another minute or so of indignant squawks, the injured wing was pinned against the Nadder’s body.

As soon as he let go of it, the Nadder hopped away, flapping its one free wing, and almost upset the table. 

“Okay, calm down,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” But as he turned to the door, the Nadder squealed. He looked back at it. “I’m coming back, I promise. I’ll be gone less than half an hour.” He doubted the dragon knew what he was saying, much less what half an hour was, but something in his tone seemed to soothe it. It merely keened at him.

“Okay,” Hiccup said again and left. As he walked up the back steps to the kitchen door, he wondered how he was going to swing this with Astrid. He couldn’t tell her, of course; any mention of a dragon, especially a Nadder, and she’d be kicking down the door to his workshop. 

And the kids wouldn’t be far behind.

“Hiccup?” she called as soon as the kitchen door opened, and a moment later she was standing in the doorway leading to the main room. She was holding Stoick, their eighteen-month-old youngest child, against her shoulder. His red hair peeked out above her hand. “Where have you been?”

Whatever thoughts Hiccup had had about how to do this slipped completely out of his mind. “Out,” he said.

“Out? Out where?”

“Just out. Sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, but before she could say anything, he asked, “Where are Zephyr and Nuffink?”

“Asleep,” Astrid said. “Zephyr says she has an invention to show you.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Hiccup said distractedly. 

“Why are you so distracted?” Astrid asked.

“I’m not—” Hiccup sighed. “I’m sorry. Something came up, a Chief thing, a private Chief thing, and—”

“A private Chief thing?” Astrid demanded. Stoick stirred and grumbled against her chest. She absentmindedly bounced him a little, and he grew still. “What kind of private Chief thing?” she went on in a whisper.

“A delicate private Chief thing,” Hiccup said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone else to get involved.”

“Hiccup, what in Hel is going on?” Astrid asked.

He looked down. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I just need you to trust me, okay? Just for… just trust me. Please, Astrid. And… keep the kids out of my workshop for the time being.”

He was tall enough now that Astrid didn’t really need to bend down to force eye contact with him. Her eyes found his and held him in place. 

Slowly, she nodded. “Okay. I trust you, Hiccup.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to need an old blanket or two. They… might not end up in the best shape.”

She furrowed her brow at him, and he could see her wanting to question him further. But she nodded again. “I’ll grab them. Anything else?”

“If you could find a wooden box or a crate or something…”

“You got it,” she said. 

“I have to go out and grab one more thing.” He took a deep breath. This would be the hardest sell. “And I’m going to have to sleep in my workshop tonight. Probably for a while.”

He was surprised by how readily she agreed. He must have sold the problem better than he thought. “Fine. I’ll leave the blankets and the crate by the door.”

“Thank you, Astrid,” he said. He gave her a kiss, and then kissed the baby for good measure. “I have to emphasize, don’t go in there. Don’t even open the door. The situation… it’s delicate. I don’t even want to think about what might happen if the kids got in there.” 

She looked more puzzled than ever, and more than a little worried. “Okay.” She kissed him. “Goodnight, Hiccup.”

“Goodnight, milady.” He headed down to the fish storage basin, a holdover from the days of dragons, and filled up a basket, which he took back to the workshop. Thank the gods, nobody saw him shoveling fish into a basket. That would have been hard to explain. When he got back, the blankets and crate were right where Astrid had said they’d be. There was also a jar of what he supposed must be mead and several pastries. 

“What did I do to deserve such a thoughtful wife?” Hiccup muttered to himself.

When he opened the door, the Nadder was sprawled on the table, snoring gently. Its head popped up as soon as he crossed the threshold. “Hey, little guy,” Hiccup said, shutting the door behind him. 

He set the crate and the blankets that were folded up inside down next to the narrow little cot he had in here for nights like—well, not like this, because there were no nights like this anymore, but nights where he’d gotten carried away and worked on something so far into the night that joining Astrid in bed would have woken her up. Astrid had said she didn’t mind, but he still felt so bad every time it happened. 

He put the mead and the pastries on the cot, then swung the basket of fish down off his back. “I’m trusting you,” he told the Nadder, then untied both bands of the muzzle. The little dragon dove face-first into the basket of fish. The only sounds it made were those of chewing and the crunching of fish bones. 

Hiccup took several bites of pastry and a gulp of mead, grateful that in ten years he hadn’t gotten sensitive to the sounds of a dragon eating.

When it was finished eating, the Nadder looked up at him and squawked.

Quietly. Almost conversationally.

“If you’ll be quiet, we can leave the muzzle off. At least while I’m here. And no fire,” Hiccup said.

The Nadder cooed, and Hiccup thought it got it.

“Okay, let’s get some sleep,” Hiccup said. He lifted up the dragon and laid it in the crate next to him, on top of the blankets. 

He stretched out on the cot and pulled the blanket over himself, snuffing out his candle. 

In the darkness, the baby Nadder squeaked a few times as it shifted around in the crate. There was the sound of ripping fabric, and he was glad Astrid had given him the old blankets. Finally, it lay down and gave one soft, contented squawk. It fell asleep, its breathing settling into tiny, squeaky snores that were not unlike Zephyr’s had been when she was younger.

Hiccup wasn’t far behind.

The next morning, he woke up with a weight on his chest. His first thought was, of course, of one of his children. It wasn’t heavy enough to be Zephyr, but a little too heavy for Nuffink…

He opened his eyes to see scales, rather than hair, cradled against his chest. “Got cold, did you?” he said, raising a hand to stroke the baby’s head, but as soon as it heard his voice, the Nadder vaulted off his chest and landed in a tangle on the floor. “Careful!” Hiccup yelped, sitting up. “You don’t want to hurt anything else.” The Nadder scuttled away to the other side of the room, only to come back around when a rap sounded on the door. 

“Hiccup?” called Astrid’s voice.

The Nadder stared up at Hiccup through huge, round eyes.

“Shh,” he whispered, then stood and walked to the door, trying not to sound rushed. He slipped outside, blocking Astrid’s view of the workshop as much as he could.

“Hey, is everything okay?” he asked in hushed tones. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she said. “But the kids are asking why they haven’t seen you. Zephyr wants to go chiefing.”

Hiccup sighed. “Can you take her? Or Mom? She’s been doing it long enough, she can talk you through it.”

Astrid frowned at him. “I’ve been doing it a while too, you know. I don’t need my daughter to tell me what to do.”

“I know you don’t,” he said. “I’m sorry. Could you just—”

“Hiccup, this isn’t like you. What’s going on?” Astrid demanded.

Behind him, something clattered in the workshop, and Astrid would have been through the door in a second if Hiccup weren’t standing in front of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t tell you. Yet. But soon, I promise, Astrid.”

She glared up at him. “You’d better. How long do you think it will take?”

He tried to think of what he knew about healing animals. “Two weeks?”

“Two weeks until you tell me?”

“Two weeks until it’s done. I think. Probably.”

“So when are you going to tell me?”

“As soon as I can,” Hiccup said. 

There was a much louder clatter.

“Hiccup,” Astrid said warningly.

“As soon as I can,” he repeated. He paused, then said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, almost grudgingly. “I’ll keep the kids busy. You take care of whatever”—her eyes flicked to the door—“is going on. And hopefully, Zephyr and your mom and Gobber and I can keep the village together.”

“Astrid, you know I couldn’t do this without you. Any of it. And I’m sorry, I didn’t expect—”

But she was already smiling. She pulled his head down for a kiss. “I know,” she said. “I’m trusting you on this.”

“I know,” Hiccup said. 

She kissed him again and went back to the house, leaving behind the bowl of porridge she’d brought for him.

That day, Hiccup busied himself with making a new muzzle, one that was at least a little more elegant than just two strips of leather tied around the Nadder’s head. When he buckled it on, later that evening, the Nadder wasn’t pleased, but it seemed a good deal more comfortable than it was before. 

“It’s just for now, okay?” Hiccup said tiredly. The baby had been bouncing around the workshop all day, reminding him not just of the toddlers he had once had, but the baby who was very quickly becoming a toddler.

The Nadder grumbled, sounding resigned.

There was a knock on the door. “Hiccup?” a voice called. It was his mother.

The Nadder started and scuttled back from the door, but it was nowhere near the panic it had shown that morning when Astrid came to the door. 

“You ready for this, little guy?” Hiccup asked. He bent down and pulled off the muzzle.

The Nadder chirped. 

Hiccup went to the door and pulled it open a crack. “Hey, Mom,” he said. “Come on in.”

“Are you sure?” Valka whispered. “Won’t it—”

“Just come on,” he said, and she obeyed, looking at him in bewilderment for a moment before her eyes landed on the Nadder. 

“Oh!” she said softly, her eyes full of wonder, and for a moment she looked just like the feral dragon lady she had been when he first met her.

It balked as it saw her, scrambling out of view behind the table. 

“I brought dinner for you both,” Valka said, handing him a basket and swinging down a second, larger basket from her shoulder, which smelled strongly of fish. “You eat, I’ll see if I can coax her out.”

“Her?” Hiccup asked through a mouthful of bread—he’d already started digging in hungrily. “How can you tell?”

“Her nose spike,” Valka said, but she didn’t elaborate further. Hiccup felt like he ought to know that, but he must have forgotten the finer points of Nadder dimorphism in the last ten years. As his mother crouched down, holding a fish in one hand, Hiccup watched and ate his food, wondering what else he’d forgotten.

“Way too young to train, right?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.

“Oh, for sure,” Valka said. “She’s just a baby.” They shared a smile at the shared memory. “She doesn’t listen to anybody. Oh!” She jumped as the Nadder snatched the fish from her fingers. They watched as the Nadder ate fish after fish as Valka fed them to it. “She’s definitely been around humans before, though. She ought to be a lot more frightened than she is.”

Hiccup met her eyes. “But what does that mean?” he asked. “Are dragons attacking humans again? I mean, after Toothless left, I thought… but what if there’s a new Alpha? Or a group might have split off, or—”

“I don’t think so,” Valka said.

“But how can you know?”

“She’s not socialized properly,” Valka said. “She couldn’t have spent much time around other dragons.”

“What do you mean?” Hiccup asked. 

Valka gestured. “Just look at her. She’s still acting like a brand-new baby, not a near-adolescent.”

Hiccup sighed. “So what are you saying? She was stolen as an egg, or…?”

“No, she spent some time with her mother,” Valka said. “Just not much. My guess is she slipped out of the Hidden World, got lost, and started going after human fishing boats because they were easy pickings. One of them tried to turn the tables, and she barely made it here before she crashed.”

“But why would she come here in the first place?” Hiccup asked.

“It’s a safe place for dragons,” Valka said.

“So what, they tell their hatchlings, ‘Hey, if you ever get lost, there’s an island you can go where there’s a talking fishbone who’ll take care of you’? I mean, they’d be safe, of course, but I can’t imagine them passing that knowledge down.”

“You’re not exactly a talking fishbone anymore, though, are you?” Valka said. “You’re a proper Chief. And don’t underestimate a dragon’s memory. Or what it’s capable of communicating.”

He sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“What I’m saying is I don’t think she was acting as part of a group,” Valka said. “Surely we would know if a group had broken off from Toothless’ rule.”

“But how would we know?” Hiccup asked, exasperated. “We’re so isolated. We hardly ever see any other humans—that last merchant ship was months ago. It just seems so unlikely that we would hear if something did happen.”

“Hiccup, I know you feel disconnected,” Valka said. “But you have to trust Toothless to keep the dragons in line.”

Hiccup sank into a chair, running his hands over his face. “I know. And I do trust him. But dragons are wild. They’re hard to control; we both know that. If anything, I don’t trust…”

“Humans.”

Hiccup nodded. “I don’t trust humans. Not with dragons.”

The Nadder squawked softly, as if in agreement.

* * *

In all the years she’d known him, Astrid had only ever known Hiccup to be this evasive, this secretive, once before.

They’d been children then, and of course, he’d had good reason to be secretive. But he didn’t now. If what she suspected was true—despite the chances, beyond hope—it was not a matter of life and death as it had been in those days back on Berk. 

Her husband had only ever been this secretive, had only ever lied to her, about dragons.

And Astrid meant to find out why he was doing it now. 

He joined her and the kids for dinner on the third night after he first started sleeping in the workshop. Naturally, Zephyr and Nuffink swarmed their father when they saw him walk in through the front door.

“Daddy, where have you been?” Nuffink demanded, hanging off Hiccup’s arm.

Zephyr, at the ripe old age of nine years old, was a little more dignified. Or she tried to be, anyway. She stopped a yard or so away from Hiccup, though Astrid could see she wanted to rush into his arms. “I think we’d all like to know that,” she remarked tartly. 

Hiccup lifted Nuffink into his arms and hugged him tightly. Nuffink hugged him back, but after a moment he began wriggling, as he always did. Hiccup set him down, and he immediately ran off. “Your mother knows where I’ve been,” Hiccup said.

Zephyr turned her scandalized gaze on her mother. Astrid only had time to raise a brow in response. Zephyr’s eyes widened in surprise as Hiccup snatched her up. “Daddy!” she squealed from his tight grasp, dignity forgotten momentarily. Hiccup planted a kiss on the top of her head and set her down. She straightened her tunic.

Now Hiccup came to Astrid, slight apprehension in his eyes. She’d been bringing him breakfast the last couple mornings, but they’d hardly spoken. She smiled at him as he approached, and he smiled back, relaxing. He kissed her, winding his arms around her as she kissed him back. “I missed you,” he murmured. 

“I can see that,” Astrid said.

The sound of a tiny throat being cleared drew their eyes downward. Zephyr was still standing there, her arms crossed across her chest and her eyebrows drawn together severely.

“May I help you?” Hiccup asked.

“Father, I don’t appreciate you trying to distract us with affection.”

Hiccup gave a curious little scoff-laugh and crouched down so he was on her level. “Since when do you call me ‘father’?”

Zephyr didn’t answer. If anything, the storm in her face grew darker. 

Hiccup sighed defeatedly, looking up at Astrid. “Where’s the baby?” 

“At Fishlegs and Ruffnut’s. We’re having dinner there tonight with the other Riders, and I sent him and Nuffink over early to play with the twins.” Astrid enjoyed the panic that flashed through Hiccup’s eyes a great deal more than she knew she ought to. “Nuffink came back shortly after.”

Hiccup was on edge through the entire dinner, only managing to contribute a few tense, half-hearted laughs to the general merriment. A part of Astrid wanted to have mercy on him and do something to make him relax. But here, among their friends who knew dragons better than almost anyone, she let him squirm.

“What is going on with your husband?” Ruffnut asked in a whispered aside.

Hiccup twitched, and Astrid knew he’d heard. “I don’t know, he hasn’t told me anything,” she whispered back. Something about Hiccup sleeping in his workshop was on the tip of her tongue, but the Twins’ last Loki Day prank was recent enough that she thought better of it. Besides, Hiccup’s foot was applying subtle but unmistakable pressure to her own beneath the table. 

They didn’t stick around for long after dinner, instead heading home while the other Riders were still chatting and laughing. As usual, the kids were tired out from the evening with their makeshift cousins. Nuffink fell asleep in Hiccup’s arms on the walk back to the house, as he always did, and little Stoick, who seemed to be less of a baby every day, walked hand-in-hand with Astrid with tottering steps.

Zephyr was the only one who stayed aloof. She was displeased both with her father’s absence the past few days and the lecture her mother was delivering on why punching Spitlout, Snotlout’s son, had been wrong of her. 

“But Mom, did you hear what he said?”

“Of course I did,” Astrid said. She couldn’t very well have avoided hearing it. “But you can’t just hit him just because he said something to annoy you.”

Hiccup shot Astrid an amused look, no doubt remembering the various times Astrid herself had hit Snotlout for just such a reason. 

“We wouldn’t want you to knock out one of his teeth or anything,” Astrid said teasingly. 

“I knocked out three of his teeth, thank you very much,” Hiccup said. “But only because he literally asked for it.” Zephyr gave him an awed look for a second before she remembered herself and gave an aggrieved sigh. She stomped off once they got to the Chief’s house, taking herself to bed.

Hiccup had an easier time tucking Nuffink into bed since the little boy was already asleep, and when Astrid came out from putting Stoick to bed, Hiccup was shutting the door to Zephyr’s room. Astrid arched a brow at him.

“Still mad, but she let me give her a kiss goodnight,” he said once they were in their bedroom. He eyed her nervously. “And you, milady? Are you angry with me?”

She looked at him for a moment. “I don’t like how secretive you’re being, but I’m not mad.”

Hiccup sighed in relief. “Thank the gods.” He took one of his nightshirts from his chest at the foot of the bed, arching his eyebrows but not questioning it when she grabbed one too. The garment left most of her legs bare, and as Astrid took her hair out of its long braids, she caught Hiccup watching her from the bed.

She smiled as she climbed into bed, kissing him before snuggling down into his chest. His arm wound around beneath her, and he held her close, one hand on her ribs. With his free hand, he reached out and grabbed the candle on his side of the bed. He blew it out, plunging them into darkness, and set the candle back on the table with a soft click.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” she asked when he had gotten comfortable.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, things are still really delicate.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been a long time since you were this evasive about something. You just seem so determined to keep me from figuring out what’s going on. And I mean, it’s been years and years since you were like this.” She paused to make sure the next words would have the impact she wanted them to. “It’s almost like it was before I found out about Toothless.”

His chest tensed beneath her hand for just a moment before he made himself relax, letting out a long breath through his nose.

So she was right. There was a dragon. 

Astrid smiled to herself. “Do you remember when I found him?” she asked. “After you’d spent all that time sneaking around and trying to hide him?”

“Vividly,” he said. “You dropped a battleaxe on my—”

Giggling, she stopped his mouth with a kiss. “If you want, I could drop something else on—” 

This time he kissed her, but as she got up on her knees, straddling him, he put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s this about?” he asked softly. 

Astrid smiled down at him, rolling her hips on his a little. “Am I not allowed to seduce my husband?”

She could just see his grin in the darkness. “I didn’t say that.” His hands slid down her waist and beneath her nightshirt, skimming up the tops of her thighs to grip her hips. She leaned forward to kiss him, and one of his hands slid up her back, deftly pulling her nightshirt off over her head.

She managed to wait another few days, until it had been a week since the dragon arrived. Hiccup and Valka took turns staying the night in his workshop. As he noticed Astrid seeing what was going on, Hiccup got increasingly nervous. 

Then, eventually, something happened in the village that required the presence of both Hiccup and Valka. Astrid suspected Zephyr, but she didn’t know any details. As they were sorting it out, Astrid snuck out down the kitchen stairs and crossed the small yard to the workshop. She took a deep breath and opened the door. Then she froze, gaping at the sight before her.

* * *

When Hiccup finally made it back to the workshop, he knew at once that something was wrong. He didn’t know what, exactly, but something was definitely off. As he opened the door, it became obvious what this was: Astrid was sitting there, on one of his work stools. 

She was cradling the Nadder in her arms. The little dragon was the quietest he’d ever seen it, actually resting its head on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. “How dare you not tell me about this?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

He didn’t answer, instead asking, “Where’s Stoick?”

“Napping. I’ll be able to hear if he wakes up.”

It was true; the workshop was so close to the house partially so that Hiccup could keep track of what was going on.

“Astrid—”

Her eyes flashed at him. “A Nadder, Hiccup? You kept me in the dark about a _Nadder?_ ”

“I’m sorry, but it had a broken wing and it needed peace and quiet to heal—”

“Peace and quiet?” Astrid hissed. “Is this not peaceful or quiet enough for you?” The Nadder hadn’t moved its head from her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I assumed the kids would follow you.”

He knew she wanted to snap at him, and he could see the retort on the tip of her tongue, but then the baby snuggled deeper into her shoulder, and the blaze in her eyes subsided. She only nodded, standing, and laid the sleeping Nadder down in its nest.

Cautiously, Hiccup approached her and reached up to cup her face in his hands. “Astrid?”

When she met his eyes, he was shocked to see tears sparkling against the blue of her eyes. “I just never thought—” she whispered roughly.

“I know,” he said, and suddenly there was a lump in his throat. “I didn’t either.” 

The workshop door opened, and they both whirled. “All right, Hiccup, Zephyr and Nuffink are playing,” Valka said, coming in with a basket of fish. “I can take over now. Though I’m not sure where Astrid—oh, hello, Astrid.”

“Hi, Valka,” Astrid said. 

“So… you know, then.”

Astrid merely nodded, but Hiccup said, “Yeah, I just found her in here.”

“Well, if you two would like some time, I can take over,” Valka said. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind some time,” Hiccup said. “Astrid?”

Astrid looked at the Nadder a moment longer before she nodded. 

“All right,” Valka said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Just outside the workshop, Hiccup stopped Astrid with a hand on her arm. “Now that you know,” he said, “will you help nurse it back to health? It would be easier with three.”

She rounded on him. “Hiccup, I’ve known for days,” she said, her voice soft but intense. “Maybe not exactly which kind, but I’ve known you had a dragon out here.”

He gaped at her. “Is this—is that what was going on the other night?” 

“I did also just miss you,” she said, blushing a little. She met his eyes. “But yeah, I’ll help babysit her.”

As they climbed the kitchen steps, Astrid’s hand went to her chest, and she hissed in something like discomfort. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she said, shooting a slightly embarrassed look at the workshop “I’m just—” She stopped, gesturing at her breasts. 

Abruptly, Hiccup understood. They’d been weaning Stoick over the past few weeks, but she hadn’t quite dried up yet. “Can that happen?” he asked. “Even if it’s not your baby?”

“If the ‘baby’ feelings are strong enough, it doesn’t matter if it’s your baby,” Astrid said. “It’s weird having those feelings about a dragon, though. Even a baby one.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said. “It’s different when you’re a parent.”

“You’re telling me,” she said tiredly.

For the next week, the two of them, along with Valka, took care of the Nadder and kept anyone else in the village from finding out about it. It was easier than they expected it to be; most people, even the other Riders, didn’t exactly keep a weather eye out for dragons anymore. Valka quietly picked up shifts from both Hiccup and Astrid under the guise of giving them more time together, but they both knew it had more to do with her wanting time with the Nadder than anything else. 

Hiccup had the last night shift before the splint was set to come off, and he woke with the Nadder snuggled against his chest, having tucked itself under his arm as he slept. He yawned and stretched, and slowly the baby woke up too.

He sat up and looked at the little creature as it crawled into the warm spot on the cot he had just vacated. It was strange, he thought, how quickly he and Astrid had gotten so attached. On the nights Valka had stayed with it, they’d stayed up whispering in their bed about the Nadder until the wee hours of the morning, telling each other stories of things that had happened as they watched it. More than once in the last week, they’d woken up to Zephyr standing over their bed with her arms crossed. She wasn’t used to being the first one up, and she didn’t appear to like it.

And the Nadder had gotten attached to them too, or at least used to them. It seemed perfectly comfortable around each of them, and even all three at once. 

As Hiccup looked down at it, an idea slowly began to dawn on him. 

Valka came by at mid-morning to help him with the splint, and as they slowly loosened the bonds that had kept the healing wing in place, he told her what he was thinking.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Valka asked. “They’re both so young and eager still; they might spook her.”

“They can behave themselves,” he said.

She shrugged. “All right, then. If you think it’s wise.”

The last strip of leather and bit of wood came off, and the Nadder stretched its wings experimentally. It didn’t make any sounds of pain, and the wing certainly looked healed.

As they watched it waddle around, flexing its wings, Valka cleared her throat. “There’s something I want to tell you,” she said. “And it’s not going to be easy to hear.”

Hiccup sat back on his haunches. “What is it, Mom?”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes. “This baby… she’s going to need help getting back to the Hidden World. If you just let her go, she might not leave New Berk. With what you’ve told me, I think I can find it.”

“Okay,” Hiccup said. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. You can take a boat.”

“And Hiccup,” Valka said.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m going to stay there.”

His head whipped around from the Nadder to stare at her, disbelieving. “What?” he asked, hardly louder than a whisper.

“I don’t belong here, Hiccup, I don’t belong in human society,” she said.

“That’s nonsense,” he started to say, but she held up a hand to stop him. 

“There’s no point in arguing. If Cloudjumper is still there, and if he’ll have me, I’m staying.”

“But what about—”

“There are half a dozen people on New Berk who know as much as I do about medicine, if not more,” she said, anticipating his argument.

“I guess,” Hiccup said slowly. “But Mom, aren’t I, aren’t the kids, enough to stay for?” His voice cracked on the last few words. 

Valka stood and went to him. “Oh, Hiccup,” she said, cupping the side of his face in one hand. He leaned into it. “Of course you are. It’s been a privilege watching you grow as much as I have, and I’ll always regret not being there for you when you were young. But Hiccup—you understand, don’t you? You must.”

“Of course I understand,” he said, smiling at her. He hugged her; as he let go, she said, “And Eret’s coming too.”

“Is he staying?” 

She shrugged, looking away. “He hasn’t decided yet.”

Whatever Valka or Hiccup or Astrid might have worried about—and they had worried, about the kids panicking, about the Nadder panicking, about them all panicking and Hiccup and Astrid having to beat a hasty retreat with the kids before someone got hurt—what actually happened when they introduced Zephyr and Nuffink to the Nadder was far worse than they could have imagined. 

And it happened too quickly for any of them to stop it.

When Hiccup opened the door, the Nadder was on the floor of the workshop, muzzled, with Valka close behind it. It was obviously startled at the two new wide-eyed faces. After a second, though, it seemed to lock on to Zephyr, and she to it.

Time seemed to slow, but there was nothing Hiccup could do.

They took a couple steps toward each other. Then, eyes lowered, Zephyr reached out her hand. The Nadder hesitated for only half a breath before pushing its nose into her palm. As they pulled away, locking eyes again, a connection seemed to pass between them. 

Hiccup had thought—had known—they were both too young. It shouldn’t have been possible. 

Regardless, Zephyr had just trained the baby Nadder. 

Hiccup looked between Astrid and Valka. He knew his face was mirroring the astounded disbelief and absolute sadness that was written across both their faces. The sadness was for Zephyr; all three of them had trained dragons, and all three of them had had to say goodbye to those dragons. 

But never like this.

Zephyr looked up at Hiccup, beaming, and her face froze. “Daddy?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you the Nadder has to go back to the Hidden World, right?” Hiccup asked. 

She nodded, her eyes wide. 

“I meant now, Zephyr. Today. Its broken wing is healed, and it needs to go back to its own kind.”

Zephyr’s eyes were swimming with tears. “But Daddy, I—we just—she—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Valka said, patting Zephyr’s shoulder. “She still needs to go home to her mother.” 

“But it’s not fair,” Zephyr said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” She reached out and gently stroked the little dragon’s crown of spikes. Her hands unbuckled the muzzle, instinctively going under the Nadder’s chin to the place that made it go limp with pleasure.

“Hiccup, we need to go before we lose the tide,” Valka said.

“We?” Astrid asked. 

“She and Eret,” Hiccup said, “are taking the dragon to the Hidden World.” From the way she took his hand, Hiccup knew she had picked up on the fact that Valka, at least, wasn’t coming back.

“Oh,” Astrid said. A strange, sad look passed between her and Valka.

Hiccup crouched down next to Zephyr. “Sweetie—” he started, reaching for her, but she twisted out of his grasp.

“No!” she shouted, throwing her arms around the Nadder’s neck.

“Zephyr,” Astrid started.

“I’m not letting you take her!” Zephyr snapped fiercely.

All this time, Nuffink had been uncharacteristically quiet, simply staring in wonder at the Nadder. Now Zephyr’s shouting seemed to break the spell, and he wrapped his arms around one of Astrid’s legs, finally starting to look scared.

“Zephyr, sweetie,” Hiccup said softly. “I’m so sorry. But she has to go home now.”

She stared at him for a moment, her jaw clenched, and he saw it in her eyes when her heart broke. But she nodded. 

There was a lump in his throat now; he knew what she was going through all too well. “Say goodbye,” he said, “and give your grandma a hug.”

Zephyr hugged the Nadder tightly once more. The Nadder keened at her, and her arms tightened further.

Nuffink was already hugging Valka. As she set him down, Zephyr went to her grandmother, sniffling. Valka held her tightly for a long moment. When she released her, Zephyr gave the Nadder one last, quick, clinging hug and rushed from the workshop.

“Zephyr,” Astrid called after her. 

“Let her go,” Hiccup said. “I’ll find her.” 

Gulping, Astrid nodded. 

Eret was waiting for them at one of the winches away from the main part of town. When he saw them coming around the corner, Astrid holding Nuffink by the hand and Hiccup carrying the Nadder on his arm, his jaw dropped. The Nadder’s muzzle was back on, and a length of leather connected its foot to Hiccup’s wrist. She was sitting on Hiccup’s arm, surveying the town as proudly as any queen might survey her realm. With a lurch in his stomach, Hiccup realized that in that moment, Zephyr would probably give up her position as the heir to the chiefhood of New Berk if it meant keeping the Nadder with her. A part of Hiccup understood that impulse all too well.

The boat, behind Eret, was already loaded up with everything he and Valka would need for the journey.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Eret said, raising his hand to stroke the Nadder’s face. It didn’t shy away, exactly, but there was reluctance in its eyes, and he let his hand fall. 

The Nadder hopped off Hiccup’s arm to Valka’s willingly enough, and Valka gave her son one last one-armed hug. 

“Thank you, Mom, for everything,” he said into her ear. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through any of it without you.”

Valka smiled sadly at him. “Thank you for bringing me home, Hiccup.”

As Astrid and Valka said their goodbyes, Hiccup turned to Eret. “My mom said you haven’t decided yet if you want to stay out there,” he said. “I want you to know that if you decide not to, you’re always welcome here.”

Eret clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Chief. I’ll keep it in mind. I’ve enjoyed my time here.”

He nodded to Astrid, who he’d said goodbye to as Hiccup was talking to Valka, and helped Valka into the boat. Astrid helped Hiccup with the winch, and slowly they lowered the boat until the tension went out of the ropes. 

“Mommy,” Nuffink said when the ropes had been pulled back up, holding out his arms, and though he was really getting too big for it, Astrid picked him up, holding him on one hip. She carried him all the way home, only putting him down on their front steps.

She turned to Hiccup. 

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” he said. She nodded and wrapped her arms around Hiccup, and they held each other for a long moment. Then she took Nuffink’s hand, leading him into the house.

Hiccup found Zephyr on an all-too-familiar cliff on the island’s western shore. She was sitting almost on the exact spot where he’d said goodbye to Toothless, watching the small boat as it sailed away across the ocean. He stood next to her for a moment before he sat down too.

Zephyr sat in stony silence, not looking at him. 

“It’s always really special when you train your first dragon,” Hiccup finally said. 

“You mean my only dragon,” Zephyr said coldly. Her eyes were still fixed on the boat, which was now little more than a speck.

“I know. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think it was possible for that to happen. I would have been a lot more careful if I thought you could train it.” He placed a hand on her back. “I wish you could have had more time with it, but—”

“Why couldn’t I?” she demanded. “Even a day.”

“It had to go home. And if you’d had more time with it, you would have gotten more attached, and it would hurt more when you had to let it go.”

“Even a day?” she repeated.

“Even a day.”

She nodded slowly and said, her voice hollow, “Plus I probably couldn’t fly with her because of her wing. It’s still a little delicate.”

“How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do.”

Like she’d known the place under the Nadder’s chin. 

Hiccup had a crushing moment of realization: if Zephyr had been able to grow up with dragons, she would have been a prodigy with them. Whatever instincts he had for training dragons, he must have somehow passed on to her in spades. The way she’d interacted with the Nadder was just so intuitive, so natural… 

And now she wouldn’t have the chance to do it ever again.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You have every right to be angry with me. And sad.”

“Are you sad?”

“I—of course I’m sad.”

“Why?” 

He sighed. “Well, I’m sad for you. I know the connection that training a dragon can create. It’s instant, and intense, and not quite like anything else. And I can’t imagine having to let a dragon go so soon after that bond was forged.” He paused. “Also, I don’t think I’m ever going to see my mom again.”

“That is sad,” Zephyr said. Then, after a moment, “I miss Skyfall.”

“Skyfall?” Hiccup asked, and then he realized. “Oh, the Nadder. You named her.”

“Since she fell from the sky. That’s what you said, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

She leaned into his side. “Dad?”

“Yes, Zephyr?”

“Why do the dragons live in the Hidden World?”

“Well, it’s their ancestral home,” Hiccup said. “They’ve lived there for centuries.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

He took a deep breath. “You meant why don’t they live with us.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s a few reasons for that,” Hiccup said. “The dragons weren’t safe, living with us, and we thought it was better for them to be where humans couldn’t get to them.”

“That’s dumb,” Zephyr said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, that Grimmel guy’s dead, right? You killed him. And he was the worst of the people trying to hurt the dragons. So they’d be safe now.” 

Hiccup sighed. “Yes, he’s dead. But there are still people from that armada who are alive, and they know where we are. But the more important thing is that the dragons wanted to leave. Toothless wanted to leave. And even if I could have kept them here against their will, I wouldn’t have.”

“Do you miss him?” Zephyr asked. “Toothless?”

“Every day,” Hiccup said. “But I know it’s better for us to be apart. He’s safer this way. And he’s free.”

“Just like Skyfall.” Her voice was trembling. 

“Yeah.”

“Dad?” she asked after a moment. 

“Yes, Zephyr?”

“Do you ever wish you’d never had Toothless? Since you can’t have him now?”

Hiccup considered that. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Without him, I might not have gotten together with your mother, I might not have you, and I definitely wouldn’t live on the most beautiful island in the world.”

“Who do you think she would have ended up with?” Zephyr asked skeptically. “Uncle Snotlout?”

“The idea was discussed,” Hiccup said. 

Zephyr’s skeptical expression redoubled. 

“Let me ask you something,” Hiccup said. “If you could make it so Skyfall never came, so you wouldn’t have to let her go, would you do it?”

“No,” Zephyr said at once. “Because then she might have died. And I know I only got a little bit of time with her, but…” 

“But you love her,” Hiccup said. 

“Yeah,” Zephyr said, her voice shaking as she tried not to cry.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hiccup said, pulling her into his lap. It had been a long time since he held her like this, but he figured she probably needed it. “What you’re going through is really hard, but in a way, you’re lucky. You have two parents who have gone through it, and we love you so, so much, Zeph.”

“I know,” Zephyr said, wrapping her arms around Hiccup’s neck. “I love you too. I just really miss her.”

“I know,” he said. “But the thing about love is that it comes with loss. It’s just part of the deal. But in the end it’s all worth it. There’s no greater gift than love.”

“Who said that?” Zephyr asked.

“Who says it wasn’t me?”

“It doesn’t sound like you.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “It was your grandpa Stoick. He was talking about my mom.”

“Why did he have to talk to you about loss and Grandma?”

“Oh, have I never told you?” he said. “Yeah, when I was your age we thought she was dead.”

She withdrew her arms from around his neck. “ You thought she was dead?” 

“I—yeah. Yeah, we did. When I was a baby, my dad saw her get carried off by a dragon, and at the time getting eaten didn’t seem like a terribly unreasonable assumption.”

“But that didn’t happen,” Zephyr said. “She didn’t get eaten.” 

“No, she didn’t,” Hiccup said. “Because it turned out, she and the dragon bonded. The same way that Toothless and I did, and Stormfly and your mother did, and you and Skyfall did.” 

“Really?” Zephyr asked, her wide eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. “Is that why she went to the Hidden World?”

“It is,” Hiccup said, swallowing hard as that rolled over him again. “He was a Stormcutter. You’ve seen them in my books, right? The big ones that look like owls with four wings?”

She nodded eagerly. “But when did you find out she was alive?”

“When I was twenty,” he said. “Your mom and I were already betrothed. Do you remember that scar I had on my chin before I grew my beard?”

It took her a second, but she nodded. “I think so.” 

“That’s how she recognized me. It happened the night she vanished.”

“Did the dragon do it?”

Hiccup nodded. “He didn’t mean to, though. He was just… looking at me. And I reached out and touched him, and then when your grandma burst in, he jumped and accidentally scratched me. At least, that’s what your grandma says. Said.”

He paused. He knew he was just distracting her, and that one day she would have to actually process this. And he knew all too well how hard that would be.

But for right now, maybe distracting her would be enough.

“So when I met your grandmother,” he said, “she was on the back of this Stormcutter. And his name was Cloudjumper…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked it. 
> 
> Please leave a comment; I absolutely love getting feedback.


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